When I get up to take a leak between second and third period, one of the girls from our table is walking back from the restrooms. She smiles at me and licks her lips. “So you’re the captain of the team? That means you’re the best, right?”
I chuckle and shrug. “It means I’m one of them, I guess.”
“You look like you’re the best,” she says coquettishly and rests her hand on my shoulder. “At a lot of things.”
She drifts past me, continuing down the narrow hall and back to the table, her tight ass swinging under her short skirt. I feel my dick twitch in my pants. It’s not that I think she’s all that pretty, or that I’m actually attracted to her. It’s that I haven’t had sex in a long time. Way too long. Well before Ashleigh asked me to move out.
Back at the table I order another round and Tommy gives me a cautious stare, though he’s still smiling. “Garrison, you told me to take it easy, remember? I can’t take it easy if you keep buying rounds.”
I shrug. “You can handle it, Boy Band.”
In the dying seconds of the third, Jordan is battling for the puck in the corner. He gets it and makes a sloppy pass, which is intercepted by the Thunder’s biggest star, Theo French. French gets a shot off, which sails by the Winterhawks’ goalie but, luckily, hits the goalpost and stays out of the net.
“I didn’t teach him that,” I remark and the guys laugh again.
“You know him?” the eager blonde from the restroom incident asks me, leaning over to touch my arm.
“One of my brothers,” I reply and finish my beer.
“And he’s a professional hockey player too?”
“Yep.” I always find it amusing when a girl is so starstruck she wants to fuck a player of a game she knows nothing about. How does that happen?
This woman, whose name I don’t know, turns to me and lets her eyes sweep the whole length of my body without even trying to hide it.
“I’m from a hockey family too,” Riley says, obviously desperate to get her attention. “My dad played.”
She nods, her eyes never leaving me. “Are all your brothers dirty blond and beautiful, like you?”
I chuckle at that. “They’re all involved with someone—like I am.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t even attempt to hide her disappointment.
About an hour later I decide I should go. The game is long over and I’m pretty drunk. I decide to call an Uber so I can get home quickly. When I’m drunk, I can usually sleep through the night—something that hasn’t happened a lot since I moved out. So I don’t want the cool fall air or the long walk ruining this buzz. I use the app on my cell and lean against the brick building as I wait.
I smell her even before she reaches out and touches my hips. Her perfume is overpowering and sickeningly sweet. My eyes open and I find her standing inches from me, grinning.
“You look sad,” she announces and gives me a pouty bottom lip.
“I am,” I tell her honestly, because what can it hurt? I will never see her again and I don’t care what she thinks.
“I can make you happy,” she says softly and steps into me, so our bodies are pressed against each other from chest to hips.
“I’m involved,” I remind her.
“Not with the right person if you’re so sad.” She pushes up onto her tiptoes and now her face, her lips are much closer to me. Much too close. Or not close enough…depending…
“I’m married.”
“I don’t care,” she whispers and leans in. Her lips make contact with mine and I feel a lightning bolt of guilt shoot through me, followed by panic. I firmly but gently put my hands on her waist and push her backward. She takes a step and then another, and I slip away from the wall and take several steps into the center of the sidewalk, away from her.
“I’m married,” I repeat a little harshly. “And I don’t cheat.”
She makes a face like I’m overreacting. Like I’m the crazy person here. “Okay. Whatever.”
With that, she stalks back into the bar, and thankfully, I see the Uber pull up to the curb. I jog over to it and jump in the back. I tell the guy my address, close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I just turned down sex. Free, easy sex with a girl who wants me because I’m fighting to save a marriage I’m not sure I even want. Life fucking sucks.
Chapter 2
Callie
The afternoon sun is bright and I actually get a little itchy as I drive slowly down the narrow tree-lined street with the picturesque brownstones lined up like a wall on one side and the scenic park on the other. It’s not quite full-on suburban hell, since Park Slope is still in the middle of a bustling urban jungle, but it’s the New York version of that existence, and I swear I’m allergic to it.
As the street curves left, I see the numbers I’m looking for carved into the thick stone above one of the doors. I parallel park between a silver Mercedes and Ashleigh’s Range Rover and tell my little 2009 Volkswagen Bug convertible not to feel inferior, before getting out and stretching. I had opted to drive here from California, which had been grueling. And New York isn’t a city that makes driving easy or even necessary, but I like the sense of security and freedom my car gives me. I can just jump in it and drive away, from anything and everything, if the need arises.
I glance at Devin and Ashleigh’s home. It is the typical Brooklyn house, well, for the wealthy, anyway. Three narrow stories, all stone, with a bay window to the left of the stairs leading up to the double oak doors, which have leaded glass and wrought iron inserts. It looks exactly the same as the ten beside it, and when I step onto the sidewalk and glance down the block, it almost makes me feel like I have double vision—I just keep seeing the same thing, over and over.
As I walk to the door, I try to picture Devin and Ashleigh’s existence. I bet he comes home from practice and plays with Conner in the big park across the street while Ashleigh scurries around the kitchen making pot roast and cookies.
I stand on the wide front stoop with the oversize black lacquer planters filled with colorful flowers, and ring the doorbell. It’s a long few minutes with no response, but I know that’s Ashleigh’s Range Rover because it still has Maine plates. She must be home. I turn and scan the park across the street to see if maybe she’s there with Conner. Finally, seconds before I’m about to give up, the door flies open and Ashleigh is standing there in a bathrobe looking irritated. When she realizes it’s me, her face morphs to shock and…guilt? Why would she look guilty?
“Callie!”
“Yeah,” I confirm like an idiot and step across the threshold to hug her.
She hugs me back, halfheartedly at first, but then her shock wears off and she hugs me more tightly.
“Devin was supposed to call you,” she stammers, releasing me and adjusting her robe, tying it tighter.
“He did,” I say and smile, hoping it makes her smile and removes the awkward look from her face. It’s making me uncomfortable. “I didn’t talk to him. He just left a message. Is he on a road trip?”
“No. He’s…” Ashleigh falters and then shakes her head. “You should call his cell.”
“Why?” I ask. She glances up the staircase toward the second level. “Ashleigh…what’s going on?”
“Callie, you know I love you but…this is something you should talk to Devin about,” Ashleigh tells me quietly. “Call him.”
“I could just hang out with you and Conner until he comes home,” I suggest.
“Conner is with Devin. And I’m busy. Can you just call Devin?”
“Ashleigh…” My mouth stays open but I stop speaking as I hear her name.
A male voice I don’t recognize is calling it from somewhere behind Ashleigh, inside the house. I glance over her shoulder and see a guy—stocky, brown eyes, brown hair, five o’clock shadow—standing in the archway to the kitchen. He’s wearing an untucked dress shirt with a tie loosened around his neck. I take a step toward him.
“Who the hell are you?” I demand. He looks nervous suddenly. As
hleigh swivels to face her male guest.
“You need to go,” she tells him flatly. He simply nods and starts toward us and out the front door.
“Call me if you need to talk some more, Ash,” he says firmly as he passes me on the stoop.
Stunned, I watch him get into the Mercedes parked near mine and drive away. I turn to Ashleigh, not even attempting to hide the shock and suspicion covering my face. “Who the fuck was that and where is your husband?”
“Devin is at his place across the park,” Ashleigh spits back hotly.
I blink. My heart stops beating momentarily and all the blood in my body seems to plummet into my Converse-covered feet. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Devin and I are separated,” she says in a hard voice.
“You are fucking kidding me.”
“Callie, can you just please go?” Ashleigh asks in a strained voice. “Just go and call Devin.”
“And say what?” I ask her, and suddenly I’m not shocked anymore—I’m furious. “Hey, Dev, was just at your house but there’s another guy there. What’s up?”
“I would appreciate it…” She shakes her head and there are tears in her eyes. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t jump to conclusions here and run and tell Devin things you don’t know.”
“I’m not a Sherlock Holmes, Ashleigh, but you’re in nothing but a bathrobe and there was a man here with you,” I reply fumingly. “And last time I checked, separated didn’t mean divorced. Separated doesn’t mean you fuck random Mercedes owners!”
“It’s complicated, Callie,” Ashleigh insists. “If you want to hurt Devin, then go ahead and tell him what you think you know. But if you care about me—or him—at all, you’ll keep quiet until I can discuss things logically with my husband.”
“You have a man who loves you and wants to take care of you and helped you create a beautiful son and a perfect life,” I explain to her in a low, even tone. “There can be nothing logical about a conversation explaining why you’re throwing it away.”
I turn and storm down the steps and to my car. I glance back once and see her on the stoop looking distraught. I get four blocks away and pull over, parking at the curb as I dig my cell out of my purse. I can’t believe what just happened. What the fuck is Ashleigh doing? Poor Devin. Holy hell. Does anyone know what the fuck is going on with him? Did he tell Jordan or Cole or his mom or Luc? Anyone?
I dial his cell and he answers on the second ring.
“Hey, Cal,” he says in a tone I realize is forced lightheartedness. “I’m glad you called me back. When do you arrive?”
“I’m already here,” I say quietly. “And I know.”
There’s a brief pause. I hear him sigh.
“You went to the house?” he asks.
“Yes. Now where are you? We need to talk.”
“I’m at the park across the street from my rental. Conner loves it here,” he says in a defeated voice and gives me the address.
“See you soon.” I hang up the phone, punch the address into my GPS, and follow the directions.
Chapter 3
Devin
Ten minutes later, as I wait to catch Conner at the bottom of the corkscrew slide on the jungle gym, I see a car pull to the curb and Callie get out. As she puts money in the meter, I catch Conner and study her. She looks exactly like she did this past summer: tall, lean, curvy with that long brown hair and her full, pouty mouth. Callie’s beautiful and wild; everything about her has always exuded those two qualities. She has always annoyed, amused and terrified the crap out of me, usually in the same instant. My brain darts back to that time in the barn a million years ago and I chew my bottom lip. Fuck, that was something. I knew right then and there, without a doubt, she was more than I could ever handle. But, as she slipped down around my cock, I also toyed with the idea of dying trying.
Now she walks swiftly and with purpose—it’s almost more of a march. I feel a humiliated flush hit my cheeks. She knows Ashleigh left me. She knows I’ve been rejected. She knows I failed. I don’t know what to expect as she approaches. I put Conner down and he runs for the swings a few feet away. When Callie reaches me, she immediately throws her arms around me and traps me in a bear hug.
She’s so warm and soft and I’m overwhelmed by how badly I’ve been missing human contact. It occurs to me that the only touching I’ve had in my life since Ashleigh and I started having issues was body checks on the ice. Suddenly, I can’t take a deep breath.
I drop my head to her shoulder and bury my face in the crook of her neck. Her hand smooths my hair and lovingly holds the back of my neck. It’s the same gesture my mom used to do to me when I was Conner’s age. Oh God, it feels so good.
“Devin, you don’t deserve this,” she says in a throaty whisper.
“It is what it is,” I tell her with as much confidence as I can muster, which is hardly any. “I’m trying to get it back on track. For Con’s sake, if nothing else.”
She hugs me harder.
“Daddy!” Conner calls as he toddles back toward us. “I want swing, please!”
We pull apart and Callie turns to my son. She smiles brightly.
“Hey, Con!” she calls out excitedly and jogs over to him with her arms out.
“Callie!” he shouts with a grin, and I’m happy he remembers her. They did spend a lot of time together at my youngest brother Cole’s wedding last summer. She scoops him up in her arms and swings him around, causing him to burst into a fit of giggles. I smile as I watch Callie drop him into a junior swing and start to give him small pushes. He kicks his feet as he grins. God, I love my kid.
“What happened?” she asks me softly as she pushes and Conner starts humming to himself. “I know you guys were having issues this summer but I didn’t know they were this big.”
I nod. “Neither did I. I thought…I mean, I knew she was angry I wanted another kid but…I didn’t think that was a deal breaker.”
“She doesn’t want more kids?” Callie looks stunned, which makes me feel better about the fact that the news stunned me too.
“She says it’s too hard raising Conner by herself and she can’t imagine having another one as long as I’m in the NHL,” I say, repeating Ashleigh’s rationale almost word for word.
“She’s not raising him alone,” Callie argues quietly. “You’re the most dedicated dad I have ever seen—besides Wyatt. And you’re not going to be out of the NHL for at least another ten years, for crying out loud. She knew this going in.”
“I know. I told her that too.” I nod in agreement. “But she says she didn’t know how bad it would be, how lonely it would be, until it happened.”
Callie just shakes her head and sighs. Her chocolate brown eyes find mine and they’re filled with concern. “Are you sure it’s just about that?” she asks softly.
My brow furrows. “Yeah. I mean what else would it be?”
She doesn’t say anything for a minute and then changes the subject. “Does anybody else know?”
I shake my head. “I almost told Luc…but changed my mind.”
“Your parents? Jordan and Jessie? Cole and Leah?”
I shake my head. She gives Conner a fairly big push and he squeals in delight. She turns to me, letting him swing solo for a few.
“You need to tell your family,” she insists. “They love you, Devin. They’ll help you.”
“I don’t need help,” I counter and give her a small, tight smile. “I just need her to make an effort. And she will, eventually.”
She doesn’t say anything. In fact, I see her bite her lip like she’s fighting to keep her mouth shut. She turns back to Conner and stops his swing, tickling his sides for a minute before she lifts him out of the seat.
“Is he staying with you tonight?” she asks.
“He’s supposed to, but he doesn’t like his room in my temporary place,” I explain. “I usually have to bring him home around nine o’clock, wailing. And then he cries when I leave him there. He wants me to s
tay with him and mommy.”
Callie looks heartbroken. She glances down at Conner. “Hey, big guy, how about we go get some ice cream?”
“Really?” he asks hopefully.
“Yeah! Let’s go!” Callie says as she links an arm through mine and holds Conner’s hand and starts walking toward the street. “Is there ice cream around here?”
“It’s New York. There’s everything around here,” I tell her with a cheeky wink.
As we walk the block and a half to a gelato place I’ve taken Conner to a few times, we talk about her little sister Rose and our good friend Luc and how well things seem to be going with them since Rose moved to Vegas to live with him. She tells me about the show she’s here to work on. It’s a teen drama about a poor family with four daughters who are all in love with the same rich boy. Typical teen angst—the type of show Ashleigh would love.
“Where are you staying?” I ask her.
“A motel in Jersey,” she replies sheepishly. “At least until I find a place.”
“Stay with me,” I blurt out suddenly. I didn’t plan on offering but it makes perfect sense. I am renting a furnished three-bedroom townhouse that is too big for just me and sometimes Conner. And she knows my only secret now. It would be nice to have someone around. Someone who is such a good friend.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I have the space and…I could use the company,” I confess. I hate how much of a fucking loser it makes me feel like to say it aloud.
She smiles and nods. “Okay. As long as I get to spend time with this gorgeous nugget.” She wipes the chocolate mess from Conner’s face with a napkin.
When we get back to the house, I give her a tour. It’s a nice enough place. A big living room with high ceilings and massive windows that looks out onto Prospect Park. A nice kitchen with funky blue granite countertops and cherry cabinets. A small office with built-in bookcases, which are empty because, other than my clothes and my laptop, everything stayed at Ashleigh’s. Upstairs my master bedroom spans the whole front of the house. It has huge windows, a walk-in closet and a giant bathroom complete with Jacuzzi tub and separate marble and glass shower you could comfortably fit five people in at the same time.
The Final Move Page 3
